Rapture Tastes So Sweet
by Vermillion Lies
Summary: It was Xemnas’ bar, weird was expected. Zexion looked at his companion for the night fully for the first time. Average height, average build, world’s stupidest hair. Zexion wondered what would happen if he ran to Xemnas’ office and begged for mercy. Zemyx
1. I'm Lookin' Too Desperately

Hey, lookit! I wrote another one!

**Rating/Warning**: M- language, sexual content, parentheses abuse**  
Dedication**: Of blondevil, by**(this is an asterisk)** blondevil, for blondevil**  
Disclaimer**: I do not own the characters, I merely enjoy abusing them. I have a feeling they'll hunt me down and kill me after this one. Really. Nor, as noted by the "asterisk,"do I even own the idea for this one. Title is from Rapture-IIO, because I can't do anything without song lyrics _somewhere._

**(also an asterisk)** In an editing rights, original idea, sort of way.

* * *

It was a bar owned by Xemnas, of course it was fucked up. But Zexion felt that in this instance he'd really taken "fucked up" to a whole new level. But still, he needed the money.

* * *

_**Rule One: If someone speaks to you, and you reply, you are obligated to go home with them. And have sex. (Dur.) Ignoring means 'no' and is not considered rude. A verbal 'no' implies you like it kinky.**_

* * *

Or so he told himself about once an hour while working his shift. Zexion wasn't quite sure where the fault lay. It wasn't the casual sex, Zexion was all for that, in theory. It wasn't the creepy-tyrant tone of the rules, that was just amusing. It definitely wasn't the million odd places you'd find said rules posted, the bottom of the peanut bowl, the bottom of the urinal, and on one memorable equation, down Saïx's neck. The five were pretty sure they'd found them all but you could never tell with Xemnas, it was probable he changed them every day, he was a tricky bastard like that.

The five were Xigbar, Xaldin, Vexen, Lexaeus, and Zexion; all appropriately named in numerical order starting with Xigbar at Number Two and Zexion as Number Six, because he'd been the last to join. (Xemnas was Number One, of course). Vexen had originally been Number Three, but he'd done _something_ and been demoted. Not that the Numbers actually _meant_ anything.

Saïx technically should have been Number Seven, since he was there all the time. But he was Xemnas' bitch, not his employee.

* * *

Of late, Zexion had been getting bored, and he was almost starting to feel... _cut off_ from the world, which was funny because he didn't particularly like the world and while he didn't _avoid_ it, per se, he did try not to get involved.

He didn't have the time for a relationship. Not that he actually _wanted_ one. Relationships meant thought and effort applied purely to make someone else happy (which would theoretically make you happy in return, or something), but Zexion wasn't the type to go for that and really, _really_ didn't have the time. And besides, while he wasn't, strictly speaking, anti-social, there were definite limits on how long he could stand most people's company.

His coworkers were decent enough. Vexen was intelligent, even if he was creepy beyond all reason. Lexaeus was intelligent, too, even if he was taciturn on a good day. (Which Zexion considered to be a good thing. He was not one for idle chatter.) Xigbar was entertaining in that he seemed to be on a permanent high, though he didn't quite grasp the concept of _personal space_, that was a problem. And Xaldin was... Xaldin.

It was best not to think about Saïx or Xemnas. It really was.

And well, working in a-working at Insert Catchy Name Here (One True Fetish) had essentially ruined the concept of the "one night stand," something about spending several hours a night playing witness to the stupidity of mankind was just... a turn-off. But still, considering the alternative...

* * *

"I can't believe I thought this was a good idea. Why am I here?"

"Well, you're either a sadistic spectator type, or you secretly are just a stupid ass who enjoys casual sex as much as the next stupid ass."

Zexion really hadn't been expecting an answer. He hadn't really been aware of speaking out loud, and even so, he was talking to himself. Which was a little odd (self-cest and whatnot) but... did this count? Please say it didn't count.

"Nice one, Six," Xaldin congratulated him in passing as he patted the top of his head in an affectionate manner that nearly resulted in a table-head collision of concussion-creating force. Xaldin didn't know his own strength, but he wouldn't hurt a fly, really. Eye roll.

External internal monologues could just go and die. Now Zexion was obligated to sleep with him, or it'd come out of his paycheck, because he was a worker, albeit an off-duty one, and someone had to set a good example for the stupid miscreants who begged illiteracy to escape sex.

This did not please Zexion, because Zexion is a contrary, denial-ridden bitch, and refused to admit that this had been his purpose in coming here off-duty.

He hadn't particularly relished the idea of hosting, but it would have given him (more of) a choice as to partners and that way at least he wouldn't have had to wake up in time to go, or get no sleep at all and stagger home looking, and feeling, like a used prostitute. (Except now, of course, he had absolutely no choice whatsoever because he was a _dumb-ass_. Zexion was filled with self-loathing.)

Which isn't to say that Zexion had any experience in such matters. Oh no, those were all anecdotes from co-workers (mostly Vexen, man, that guy had some _fucked_ up stories) and the poor sots who would go to a fucking _sex bar_ just to get a drink, and then spend the whole evening ignoring anyone who propositioned them and bewailing their miserable lives to the "sympathetic" barkeep. Because if the customers wanted to talk, you damn well better listen, and be supportive, because Xemnas was an _asshole_ and he just _loved_ having excuses to dock everyone's pay, the cheap bastard.

The mystery-responder guy grinned at him in a cheeky-manner that suggested he'd planned this whole thing and Zexion had fallen perfectly into his trap.

"Well, then," he said with a suggestive twitch of his eyebrows that made Zexion long to hurl his stool through the window, but again, paycheck-docking.

"I-" Zexion, briefly, considers the notion of falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness. And suddenly he was filled with sympathy for all the people they'd tossed into Lexaeus' (actually, almost) tender care.

* * *

_**Rule Two: Failure to comply with the above means you will A) be banned from Insert Catchy Name Here(Sasunaru) for the rest of forever and we, the management, cannot be held responsible for what happens when we toss you out to Lexaeus or Xaldin, or, B) pay a fine of 1000, cash. (State Police accept this as legal, try to sue and we will annihilate you.)**_

* * *

"I guess we should be going then," Zexion muttered miserably to his beer mug as he found himself wishing it was something far stronger.

"You don't have to sound quite so end-of-the-worldy about it, you know."

Zexion looked at his companion for the night fully for the first time. Average height, average build, world's stupidest hair. Zexion wondered what would happen if he ran to Xemnas' office and begged for mercy, he'd undoubtedly get some sort of punishment, but he could probably talk his way out of the fine in exchange for... lap-dances or something. Yeah, Xemnas' would like that, or table-dances, or... hadn't he been talking about getting a pole at some point? Zexion could learn to pole dance, he was sure, and well, it couldn't be that bad.

Or maybe he could just clean, Xemnas hated giving people money, surely that extended to the cleaning service. And Zexion already knew how to clean; he kept his apartment clean to the point of neurosis and surgical sterility.

Pride stopped him. He would not run and beg and degrade himself to menial labor or exhibitionist dancing, he _would not_.

On the other hand, where was the pride in spending the night with an unattractive dumb-ass? (He had no reason to consider the other man a dumb-ass, but he was angry and bitter and couldn't quite (by a long shot) move himself to give a damn.)

And so it was that Zexion drained the last of whatever swill he'd ordered, employee discount only went so far, and waved the other man through the door in front of him. He clenched his teeth and pretended to serenely not notice the nods, thumbs-up and other signs of approval he was receiving from Vexen and Xigbar, who stood behind the bar. Not to mention the leers and knowing grins from the customers.

The subway ride to Zexion's apartment was torturous but blissfully short (one of the few logical reasons Zexion worked at Insert Catchy Name Here(Rapture)). Still, it was long enough for Zexion to become thoroughly uncomfortable with the way whatsisface's eyes felt like they were burning through his clothes.

Upon arrival Zexion tossed his jacket carelessly onto the kitchen table, loosened the collar of his shirt (today's last-minute-announcement-purely-to-torture-everyone theme had been Formal, which really meant they all looked like wannabe-classy cocktail waiters in rented suits) and all but dashed to the liquor cabinet.

Zexion was not a drinker. But at some point his co-workers had been to his apartment (he couldn't remember why, it must have been Xemnas' fault) and he'd been informed that for a bartender to not have alcohol was sacrilege. He'd given in purely to make them shut the fuck up.

"Do you want a drink?" he called out belatedly remembering his duty as Host as he poured himself a rather large of glass of vodka, his drink of choice when forced into it. Most of his alcohol buying consisted of stuffing his freezer with what was surely a decade's supply.

"Not really," the guy replied looking around the apartment with vague interest.

Zexion shrugged and downed the glass in one go, only to regret it as he coughed harshly from the bitter taste and low (very, very low) temperature.

The guy let out what might have been a slight snort of laughter but Zexion chose to ignore it and refill his glass. It was funny, this whole thing was seeming much better already.

By the second glass, which went down much easier, Zexion was sort of thinking that he really had been planning this all along. After all, he was a genius, his plans always worked. _Always_.

Or so he thought as he lead the way back to his bedroom, vodka bottle still in hand; the glass seemed sort of pointless. He stopped in the middle of the room, by the side of the bed, and swung the bottle up again, ignoring the way the frozen glass stuck awkwardly to his hand and burned his lips.

He eyed the guy, he really needed a better name than that, again and adjusted his initial assessment. The face wasn't all that wonderful, and the hair really _was_ stupid, but the body wasn't too bad, actually rather nice, in a vaguely-muscled-band-geek sort of way. Zexion wondered if he played an instrument.

Anyway, the face was ignorable, that's why people turned the lights off.

And then Zexion realized he wasn't entirely sure of what to do next. Well, no, he knew, he just couldn't think of a way that wasn't awkward as fuck. He supposed this whole thing went much better if you were properly inebriated and, you know, actually attracted to the person. He mused if this was what it was like with a hooker...

Luckily, Blondie did seem to know, though Zexion would be damned if that hair was natural, in color _or _shape. He worked with Lexaeus, he knew the results of much styling when he saw it.

The guy, Blondie-Zexion corrected himself, stepped closer, a slight, devilish (though Zexion was loath to use the word) smirk on his face that Zexion found infinitely appealing.

He took the bottle from Zexion's near-numb fingers and took a small sip, though it was probably larger than he'd like from the expression on his face as he suppressed the urge to hack it back up.

Blondie ignored Zexion's slight laugh and tilted Zexion's head to the side instead. His fingertips were freezing, whether that was from the bottle or the January weather Zexion didn't know. The guy's mouth behind his ear and the hand working it's up his spine, over his shirt, felt ridiculously good, Zexion blamed it on the fact that his skin was already tingling from the alcohol.

"Do you kiss?" The whisper was a pleasantly contrasting warmth against his neck and Zexion was having difficulty keeping his breathing even, damned vodka.

"Not really."

"Too personal?" the voice, coming more from the region of the center of his throat now, chuckled slightly.

"Bad breath." Complete sentences were for stupid people. The answer was yes but it sounded stupid to admit.

"You or them?"

"Them. Though unless you're partial to vodka..." he trailed off and the blond guy actually did laugh a little this time, his free hand sliding under Zexion's shirt.

Zexion felt himself thawing, enough to let his fingers curl in the guy's hair and grip his shoulders.

"Should I go turn the lights off?" Blondie asked, tilting his face to look at him, Zexion vaguely wondered when his shirt had been unbuttoned, and who had done the unbuttoning.

"On," he breathed, not even conscious of having made the decision until the word left his mouth. Really, he _was_ a genius, he decided as he pushed the blond back onto his mattress.

* * *

_**Rule Three: The one to speak first is The Host. The second, The Guest, will leave the Host's home before The Host wakes up. If you fail in this refer to Rule Two. Neither will attempt contact with the other outside the precinct of Insert Catchy Name Here(The Monkey House). You cannot call them, you cannot speak their name, should you even learn it, we suggest not. Again, refer to Rule Two for the consequences.**_

* * *

Zexion was feeling quite pleased with himself. His plan had gone beautifully, the birds weren't singing, his neighbor wasn't watching game shows at maximum volume and, best of all, he didn't have to go in to work today. _Life could not get any better_, he thought joyously as he rolled over happily, he didn't even have a hangover!

And was somewhat disgruntled when his hand met not soft, cottony sheets, but something about the texture and temperature of human skin. Eyes still shut, he poked at it. Well, it certainly felt like skin. If he didn't open his eyes, it wasn't true.

He pulled back his hand and waited, but the sound of someone, who wasn't him, breathing didn't stop. God. Fucking. Damnit. He opened one eye as slowly and reluctantly as possible. It was true. There was no other explanation for it, the damned bastard had broken the rules and stayed the night.

Glaring, he sat up and jabbed the guy, Don... Dan... something like that, the vague memory of asking his name before he fell asleep was, well, _vague_. "Wake up," he barked harshly, conveniently forgetting that he took at least a half hour to wake up most mornings. "Now, damn it! Some of us have things to do..." _and bosses to beg for mercy._

Blondie made some funny, morning noise and rolled over burying his face in _Zexion_'spillow.

Zexion punched him "lightly" in the arm, "Wake the fuck up!"

"Five more minutes..."

"I can hurt you, get up. Now." Zexion stood and began searching for his clothes. Erm, why were his pants on the ceiling fan? Whatever, they could stay there for a bit.

"I really don't see what the problem is," Blondie muttered sitting up.

"The _problem_ is this will probably get me fired."

"Um, how?"

"It's the-Did you not _read _the peanut bowl? I broke the damned rules!"

"Not really," he replied, scratching his stupid-haired head. "I'm the one who didn't leave by morning."

So, he _did_ know the rules, that really only made it worse. So very much worse that Zexion grabbed the nearest object, Demyx's shoe, and threw it at the blond's head. "But I'm the employee, therefore he'll punish _me_!" Zexion was getting mildly hysterical. "With the fees, and the lap dances, and the-the-god knows what else!"

He remembered job hunting. The dozens of places he was fully qualified to work for but couldn't due to the odd hours he kept, partially out of habit, partially because of his classes. But mostly he remembered having no money and having to call up his parents and beg for tuition money. And the eternally overdue rent. And then Lexaeus had mentioned that there might be an opening at the bar where he worked. And Zexion was desperate, so he went.

"Lap dances?"

Zexion threw the second nearest object.

"Why in god's name are you reading Moby Dick? And how's your boss gonna find out anyhow?"

"He's _Xemnas."_

"'m not following."

"He's _**Xemnas**_." Zexion repeated with a "jazz hands!" like motion that would clearly make the whole thing _so_ much more logical.

"Your jazz hands aren't helping."

Zexion resisted the urge to tear his hair out and faced the man in his bed instead. "Look, can you please just go now? I sort of need to have an emotional breakdown... or destroy my apartment and dress up in a vinyl cat-suit... it's all the same really."

That seemed to get the point through his head as he nodded in agreement and Zexion _thought_ all was well until a slow and infuriating smile spread across his face.

"Thank-what the hell is so funny?"

The grin turned innocent in that way that really meant pure evil, "You look pretty naked."

Oh god, he was going to be fired and consequently homeless because of a total jack-ass, moron... thing. Zexion started to laugh helplessly as he decided standing was too much effort and fell back on his ass. Which hurt.

From the sounds of it, Blondie was getting out of bed. "Ehh, no, this one's empty... aha! Jackpot."

And suddenly there was someone else's hand in front of his face as Blondie, who'd been able to retrieve _his_ pants because _they _weren't caught one the ceiling fan, proffered one of Zexion's many bottles of vodka.

Zexion pushed it away miserably, "I don't drink."

"Sure seemed to last night," Blondie muttered as he straightened and finished off the bottle himself, "Blech, no wonder you keep it in the freezer." He jumped and caught the edge of Zexion's pants and pulled them off the fan. He then eyed them disdainfully and tossed them on the bed, then pulled another pair off a convenient chair. "Here, or do you want underwear?" he glanced around hopefully as if expecting the underpants-fairy to come poofing into existence.

"I can dress myself," Zexion snapped and snatched the pants out of his slack hand.

"Course you can, you're all growed up!"

Zexion glowered.

"Listen, I know you're kicking me out and all, but do you want me to make you breakfast or something before I go?"

Zexion stared.

"I feel sort of guilty about the whole job-losing thing..." he trailed off.

"There's nothing in the kitchen."

"...do you want me to _buy_ you breakfast?"

Zexion considered it briefly; may as well take the bastard's money. He grabbed a shirt and pulled it on, noticing belatedly it wasn't his. All well, he wasn't giving it back. He consented to allowing Blondie to pull him to his feet and made a mental note to figure out his name without admitting he'd forgotten.

* * *

_**Rule Four: On-duty staff members are not bound by Rule One. Off-duty staff members know full well what will befall them if they break The Rules. Should you wish to engage in sexual congress with a member of the staff while they are on-duty, you must commence courtship in the normal manner. Good luck.**_

* * *

Zexion hated life. Again. Some more. A lot. One of those.

Mid way through the all-important process of sheet-changing and vodka-replacing (the stuff was growing on him, and they'd drunk _a lot_, stupid make-shift body shots) his cell phone had gone off. It was Xemnas, saying something about Vexen being unable to come in so Zexion would have to work tonight after all, and could he please come at opening.

Except when he'd gotten there Vexen had been standing behind the counter chatting with Xaldin, and Xemnas, whose Zexion-senses had clearly been tingling, appeared menacingly in the doorway to the back section and asked him for a quick word in his office.

Which could mean only one thing; he was, in a word, fucked.

Zexion considered running but Saïx had maneuvered in behind him so his escape was cut off. He walked calmly behind the bar and through the door, not responding to the consolatory pat on the back from Vexen or the sympathetic look on Xaldin's face as he passed through the stock room.

"So, would you like to tell me about this morning?"

He could plead innocence. But that was stupid because Xemnas clearly knew and he'd be flayed alive anyway.

"I really don't think it's my fault, sir. He knew the rules and chose to break them; I had no part in it."

"Yes, but you are the _employee_. And a good employee would have seen that the rules were upheld no matter what."

"I really don't think that's-" Xemnas looked at him. He shut up.

"So, what punishment would you consider appropriate, Zexion?" Zexion really, really hated the way he said his name. "I'm aware of your financial situation and your previous difficulties in finding a job. So tell me what you think I should do, I would so hate to be cruel."

_Oh god, don't say lap dances, don't say lap dances, don't say-_

"I've been considering adding a form of entertainment. What do you think of pole dancing, _Zexion_?"

_I think I'm a terrible dancer and I dislike attention._ "Well, when you consider that easily fifty percent of our customers are straight men, I think that it would cut our profits considerably."

"But our straight female customers would increase."

Zexion swallowed thickly, "Yes, but whatever slight increase there wouldn't be enough to turn a profit, or break even, for that matter."

"Especially when one considers that this little stunt of yours has already cost us customers."

"I don't see how, sir."

"Zexion, in all your months of working here, you have not once taken advantage of what we offer, beyond the occasional drink you allow someone to buy you. This confuses them. Hence, you interest them. And so they come to see if perhaps, you will finally bed someone. But now, you have lost your allure." Xemnas leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

It was official, Xemnas was delusional. But whatever, time to cater to the madman. "Is it not possible that now they will come in greater numbers as they now see that I am, er, attainable?" Zexion was very uncomfortable with the direction this conversation seemed to be heading.

Xemnas nodded thoughtfully, "That may well be true, but that is not nearly sufficient."

"Cleaning?" Zexion ventured.

"No, Lexaeus is in charge of cleaning detail for the next few months to pay for his own misdemeanor."

Beyond public humiliation and cleaning, Zexion had nothing.

Saïx entered and took the, Zexion noticed amusedly, slightly shorter chair behind Xemnas' desk. He was vaguely surprised Saïx didn't sit at his feet.

"Did you know that you are considered by some to be the prettiest of the bartenders?" Xemnas asked out of the blue. Zexion felt sort of flattered, until Xemnas continued. "This is, of course, ridiculous."

"Is it?" he asked weakly, still wondering what he should do. He really didn't want to suggest it; he didn't have enough time as it was.

"Of course. Saïx is the prettiest." Neither Saïx's expression or posture changed, but he managed to look quite smug just the same. Xemnas scratched behind his ear affectionately.

"He isn't a bartender."

Xemnas turned his (rather creepy) orange eyes on him, "Saïx is the prettiest."

"Of course, sir." ..._do you want me to make you breakfast or something? _"Food! I could make some. Think about it, there are plenty of other bars that offer food other than peanuts, why should we lose business to them?"

"Yes, but that kills the point of your new attainability in the public's eye, if you are forever out of eyesight cooking. Also, refitting the kitchen to usability would be more costly than I really care to think about... so, about that pole dancing."

"Extra hours. I'll work seven days a week. Full shifts. No pay beyond the regular amount." Zexion cut in hastily, and dejectedly. Sure, he'd lose sleep and completely sacrifice what was left of his free time, but... _pole dancing_. It was worth it. "For a month."

"Three."

"One and a half."

"Three."

"Two?"

"Three."

"Two and a quarter?" Zexion almost wanted to cry.

"Two and a half."

Zexion sighed; there really was no way to win. "Fine."

"Saïx, what do you think?"

For no reason Zexion could guess, the man then stood, crossed the room to stand before the window and stared out, presumably at the moon, for several long moments. Zexion felt sweat bead on his forehead.

"Yes, this is a good plan."

Xemnas nodded his assent, and just like that, it was over.

Zexion, confused as to what had just happened, stood and was halfway out the door when Xemnas stopped him, "Ah, yes, and one more thing. To fully extort your attainability, you should be more, ah, _accommodating_ to the customers."

"I'm not a prostitute," Zexion snapped angrily.

"Of course not," Xemnas' tone implied he might be better off if he were, "but a bit of flirting wouldn't hurt. Also... your clothing..."

"What about it?" Zexion managed to keep the whimper out of his voice.

"It could show more skin."

Zexion shut his eyes and nodded, "Of course, sir."

* * *

_**Rule Five: If you come with someone, you are allowed to speak with them without the obligatory sex.**_

* * *

It had been about a week since that night with whatsisface (_Demyx_, Zexion finally remembered). He had, for the most part, cast the incident out of his mind, labeling it irrelevant and over, and would have been far more successful were it not for the way his co-workers were insistent in ruining his life. And that fact that he was now at Insert Catchy Name Here (Sexy no Jutsu!) seven nights a week for eight hours apiece, that sort of thing was hard to ignore. _Especially_, when he was only being paid for five days with varying hours.

Regardless, he himself did not give the matter much thought, beyond the small feeling of triumph when the name had popped into his head the other day as he did the dishes (there were far too many varieties of drink-containers to his mind) in the bar's grimy kitchen. The only parts of which that were actually functional were the sink and the refrigerator.

Despite this, he really didn't need Vexen's bony finger jabbing him in the spine when Demyx walked in the door accompanied by a tall, (naturally) blond man with a number of piercings.

So Zexion glared at Vexen momentarily before returning to mixing Red-Headed Sluts for a group of girls who thought themselves incredibly witty, the large part of them being both slutty and red-haired.

And then Zexion continued to ignore the world, largely Blondie (he'd been demoted from name-having status) and the customers who hit on him. He didn't take it personally, most of them were drunk enough to hit on anything that moved, which they did.

But still, it's not like Irish Car Bombs were so incredibly fascinating to make (nor, in Zexion's opinion, to drink), so it really couldn't be considered his fault that he was vaguely aware of the (fake) blond. It gave him something to do while nodding at the banal whinings of his angstier customers and trying to pretend he wasn't freezing his ass off in his scrap of a top.

Zexion had done his very half-hearted and reluctant best to fix the "problem" of his clothing not showing enough skin. And evidently, Xemnas had not been pleased by his efforts, as displayed when he found various articles of clothing on his square of table in the backroom. He'd tried to ignore them but was called into Xemnas' office later to explain why. Zexion had gotten the point. (And most-definitely refused to ask how Xemnas knew his measurements.) All of this was thought to be incredibly amusing by his co-workers. They could all go and die. Painfully.

"Hey, can I have another?"

Zexion blinked and turned to get a look at the guy's glass, then began mixing the appropriate amount of-Blondie was coming toward the bar. Zexion supposed it was his turn, his companion had gotten the last round. He'd added twice the normal amount of rum. Fuck.

"Sorry about that," he muttered as he downed that one, then got (another) clean glass and started again. He started to feel slightly warmer, alcohol was _lovely_.

"So, what time do you get off?" the guy's overture was drunken and lacked in anything remotely like subtlety or appeal. Zexion had initially thought the kid to be a minor, but his ID checked out so he would have to think harder to come up with an excuse to get Lexaeus to kick him out. Although, Lexaeus liked him, so he might just do it as a personal favor. Blondie was looking at him. He didn't return the favor.

"Too late, I'm sure. Children should be in bed." Zexion felt now would be a wonderful time to go check on Vexen on the other side of the bar, god knows he had trouble with... breathing... yeah, breathing. That crazy Vexen and his breathing troubles.

Right, time to go do that then, but Blondie's choked off laughter stopped him. Zexion glanced at him and felt his lip twitch in response. Blondie's smirk grew wider.

"Is something amusing?" the guy's speech was starting to slur.

Bl-_Demyx_ glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, then back to Zexion. "Can you tell him he fails at picking up men, for me? I would, but," he gave him another scathing sidelong glance, "well, then I'd have to sleep with him."

"You think you can do better?" he spluttered indignantly, his face turning red(der).

Demyx didn't even look at him, "Please tell him that I already have."

Zexion looked at the guy, Jack... Mike, some generic male name, then shrugged and grinned in a "whoops" sort of way. He was... actually enjoying this. He didn't even bother to correct Demyx on the matter of who had picked up who.

Jack-Mike opened his mouth to stutter out another angry retort when Demyx cut him off. "Furthermore, could you tell him that had I not already succeeded where he so epically failed, I would go about it somewhat like this." Here, he seized Zexion's hand and held it, staring into his eyes like he was about to break out a sonnet or a deep confession of love. Instead, he said, "Darling, would you like to come back to my apartment with me for a night of hot, steamy, headboard-banging sex that would render all my neighbors insanely jealous and unable to sleep?"

Zexion was pretty sure that if he didn't start laughing right at that instant he would turn a red that would put tomatoes to shame. So, naturally, he faked a swoon and said, "Oh, but _of course_!" He even batted his eyelashes a time or two, just for the hell of it. The rum was going to his head.

Jack-Mike gave up and left the bar to go find someone more willing and less mocking, not forgetting to leave the money for his last drink.

Zexion grinned and wrench his hand out of Demyx's (the bastard had a tight grip), "Thanks for that."

"_Zexion_, why are you irritating the customers?" A cool voice inquired over his shoulder. Damn Xemnas and his silent walking. (Of course, it had nothing to do with the general sensory overload of the place.)

"Gee, sir, I dunno. Why are the customers presumptuous jackasses?" Zexion snapped.

"If you recall, _Zexion_, part of our agreement was that would be more accommodating to the customers? Which entails you not pissing them off."

"He didn't leave, did he? He can't be _that_ mad if he's still-"

"Wait, you're a prostitute now?" Demyx interrupted sounding far too... _chipper_ for Zexion's tastes.

"No!" Xemnas and Zexion snapped in unison (they would look back at this moment and cringe in horror).

"Regardless, happy customers are-wait, is this him?"

"Him who?" Zexion asked. "Oh, right. _That_ him, he is indeed, that him." Zexion wiped the bar down angrily more because it gave him something to do than the presence of the condensation rings on the wood.

"In that case, I should dearly like to thank you, young man."

"Um, why?" Demyx looked puzzled and his gaze kept flicking to Zexion who resolutely wiped at the now spotless counter.

"Well, thanks to you and your stupidity I know now have Zexion fifty-six hours a week, and I'm only paying him for thirty-six of them. Also, he has to wear outfits like this, isn't it lovely?"

The counter was _fascinating_, Zexion had never seen such a fascinating counter. Really, he meant that.

"More whorish than lovely, if you ask me," Demyx muttered to himself.

"I know, that's what I meant!" Xemnas wandered off laughing merrily.

Zexion looked up, Demyx was staring at him like a child stares at a cobra about to kill it; terrified and enchanted. "This is one of his good days," Zexion promised him quietly.

"You've got to be-" Demyx peered after the disappeared manager who was still laughing merrily with Saïx, "Never mind, I believe you."

"I am _so_ prettier than him." Zexion muttered to himself after glancing over his shoulder, to follow the direction of Demyx's gaze. Luckily no one heard him or else he'd have to kill them for hearing him voluntarily refer to himself as "pretty."

"Where were we?" Demyx looked a bit like he wouldn't be able to remember his own name, if he was asked.

_Jackass customers_, the real answer sat on the tip of his tongue, but somehow when he said it, it sounded more like, "You. Me. Sex."

"We were?" there was a glint of cautious delight in Demyx's eyes.

"No," Zexion shook his head and the glint died. "But we should have been."

"So, if I asked if I could kiss you, would you hurt me?"

"Yes. A lot. On the other hand, were you to be a man and just do it, the chances of that are much smaller."

"So they're good then?" he perked up.

"Relativ-"

"Oh my fucking god, can I just get a damned drink?!" a female voice snapped.

Zexion glanced at her for all of half a second, "No. Hey! Superior! As a thank you to this guy, how would you feel about letting me leave early so I can go home with him and commit various inappropriate-for-children acts?"

Xemnas stared at him as if he were a wayward child that Xemnas, his doting father, had finally given up on, "Be gone with you then. Just remember to be better about following our agreement tomorrow."

Zexion nodded and got the hell out of there as fast as was humanly possible (not forgetting to swipe a few condoms from the condom bowl, conveniently next to the peanut bowl), a mildly shell-shocked Demyx in tow. Sadly, a few seconds later he found himself slipping in through the back to get his coat, it was _cold_.

"My description was so much better."

Zexion was mostly focused on not zipping his jacket, no matter how cold it got. "Of what?"

Demyx scoffed, "Oh, come on. "Inappropriate for children" versus... whatever I said, I can't remember right now, but I'm sure it was much better than that."

"Er, sorry. I'll try to do a better job next time."

"Good, see that you do."

Zexion shoved his fists deep into his coat pockets and repeated to himself that he was _not cold_.

"How come you never call him his name to his face?"

Zexion's head whipped around, "What? Who?"

"Your boss, Xem-whatever."

"He's _Xemnas_."

This conversation seemed vaguely familiar. "Oh, right." Demyx scratched the back of his head, "I'd forgotten about that... or something."

They'd reached the end of the block. "Where are we going?"

Demyx shrugs again, "I dunno. I was following you."

Zexion swore.

"Right. Well, this way," with a slight tug on the sleeve of his jacket Demyx was leading him off to... somewhere; which turned out to be no more mysterious than a subway station, but whatever.

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah, I don't really know either. Only one or two more chapters, because while this story is the energizer bunny (except evil and on Viagra) it is not, in any way, shape or form, immortal. I'll conquer it eventually. I've broken it up because it's too long as is.

I hate to have to say it, but reviewing is very much a good thing. And you really should (unless you're sitting there asking yourself why you wasted X minutes of your life reading this), especially if you alert/fave it. It's pretty rude not to.


	2. This Game Between the Sheets

Holy shit I actually updated. Hallelujah! Or something....

**Rating/Warning**: M- language, sexual content, parentheses abuse**  
Dedication**: Of blondevil, by**(this is an asterisk)** blondevil, for blondevil**  
Disclaimer**: I do not own the characters, I merely enjoy abusing them. I have a feeling they'll hunt me down and kill me after this one. Really. Nor, as noted by the "asterisk,"do I even own the idea for this one. Title is from Rapture-IIO, because I can't do anything without song lyrics _somewhere._

**(also an asterisk)** In an editing rights, original idea, sort of way.

* * *

**Chapter Two:** _"This Game Between the Sheets"_

* * *

The ride to Demyx's was far longer than to Zexion's, and far more painful. By the time they were past the turnstiles and waiting for the next train with everyone else, Zexion had decided that if Demyx was not _the _greatest thing ever created, he was damned close, and was having a hard time not acting on this decision, namely in the form of jumping.

Also, he was freezing, the blond was warm. The temptation to burrow into Demyx's jacket, far warmer and more winter-appropriate than Zexion's, was stronger than he would have thought possible. That this would also give him an excuse to touch the blond was not lost on him.

Distraction. The train was here. They slid easily into the crowded car and grabbed places standing by one of the poles.

He was developing a slight twitch as he gripped the pole and decided eating less for a week or two in order to buy an actual jacket would be well worth it. In the mean time....

He slid a totally inconspicuous arm around Demyx's waist and resolutely stared straight ahead as he murmured through clenched teeth, "I'm freezing, shut up."

Demyx, being an inappropriately nice guy, wrapped an arm around Zexion's shoulders and dragged him closer, "Aww. You should have said something. I could've given you my coat." That last was said in a teasing voice.

"Yes, and then I could've castrated you," Zexion murmured to the general vicinity of his neck, which was wonderfully warm, and pretty (Zexion hadn't known that necks could be pretty). He bit it. Demyx twitched.

Demyx's chin dug unpleasantly into Zexion's scalp when the blond spoke. "You would've regretted it later."

"Hn." He probably had a point, damn him.

"Since we've got the time and all... can I ask you a question?"

"Go for it." Zexion was seriously considering abandoning the pole in favor of Demyx, who was warmer and more comfortable.

"Why do you work there?"

"What?" Zexion... had really not been expecting that.

"Well, you know," Demyx rolled a shoulder, which was very rude of him considering Zexion was leaning on that one, "you really don't seem like you enjoy it. You sort of looked like you wanted to brain everyone with all those shiny bottles, not, you know, pour them drinks."

Zexion blinked rapidly, "You were watching me?"

"Maybe... you aren't exactly subtle in expressing your dislike."

"I need the money for tuition."

"_Sooo_, a college degree is worth your soul?"

"No, but a law degree might be. It's not that bad. Xemnas is, you know, sadistic and creepily omniscient. And my co-workers are a little odd... it's not that bad." Zexion was trying to convince himself more than the blond.

"Right," Demyx murmured distractedly as the train pulled to a stop and people flowed in and out. He tugged Zexion over to some emptied seats. Zexion tried to decide if those guiding tugs on his sleeve were annoying or adorable. Mostly he was mad about the loss of Demyx-arm.

He took the seat next to the blond and huddled into himself as subtly as possible because Zexion Karenin did _not_ get cold.

But then it was too quiet because it's the city and the people keep to themselves (unless they're trying to sell you something as you walk down the street) and everyone ignored everyone, even the friends in their groups. And the background radio was sketchy at best because the reception was crap and it was probably "Lite FM" anyway. So Zexion had to say _something_, if only to drown out what appeared to be the disowned second-cousin of elevator music.

"How about you?"

Demyx just shrugs and smiles and moves his hand up to his knee, which somehow involved touching Zexion's skin through one of the places in his pants that wasn't fabric so much as laces (the Laces to Fabric ratio was about three to five), but Zexion was sure that had been an accident.

So he slid his hand over to Demyx's thigh and stared at the anti-smoking ads across the way and up a bit. Still, he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and wasn't startled by the sudden heat of Demyx's mouth against his neck. Zexion merely tilted his head and slid his hand further up. Demyx's twitch was well worth it, the harsh bite to his earlobe, not so much.

"You deserved that," Demyx murmured softly.

Zexion turned to quip something back at him but Demyx's face was so very close to his. Demyx must have noticed too, because he was kissing him and tasted suspiciously like peppermint. Zexion flashbacked to Vexen reaching for the Crème de Menthe, but Vexen was really not a suitable topic of thought for the moment so Zexion shoved that aside and complied with Demyx pulling him onto his lap, even as he pushed the blond back onto the seat cushions.

"Mommy, why are the nice men eating each other?"

Children evidently did not always grasp the "ignoring everyone" rule. Zexion and Demyx stared. The girl's mother flushed with embarrassment and murmured something into her daughter's ear.

The rest of the train ride passed in a blur. A blur during which Zexion and Demyx actually managed to keep their hands to themselves, with the notable exception of Zexion's hand on Demyx's thigh and Demyx's arm around Zexion's shoulders.

The walk to Demyx's place was quick, primarily due to Zexion's god-like control when it came to not dragging Demyx into some sketchy back alley where no one would be able to see them.

The elevator, however, was too much. Zexion jumped the blond as they passed the fourth floor. By the seventh, Demyx's jacket was pinned between his body and the wall. His shirt was shoved up to his ribs by an impatient and de-belted Zexion.

At the eighth floor, the doors dinged open. They scrambled to put their clothes to rights as they separated to face a grandmotherly woman in a bonnet.

"Er, hello, Mrs. Potts."

"Hello, Demyx darling, how are you?"

Demyx cleared his throat, "I'm, ahh, I'm well. And you?"

"I'm just fine, darling. I'm just fine," she patted the blond's cheek affectionately. "And who's your little friend?"

She asked with that magic tone of maternal-figure type scorn that Zexion remembered as the same tone Marluxia's mother had taken upon their first introduction, at the start of which Zexion's hand had been very much in the pink-haired boy's pants... But that was all very irrelevant at the moment.

Zexion took a deep breath and stuck out his hand, wiping it conscientiously on his pants first, "Zexion, ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Mm," she nodded, and smiled, and turned back to Demyx, which was quite alright with Zexion, other than feeling remarkably like a tool with his hand stuck out, fucking habits.

"Sorry about that," Demyx said when she left a story or four later, "she's a nice lady, really. Much more so when she doesn't walk in on, well-" he breaks off with a laugh.

Zexion shrugs and grins half-heartedly.

They got off on the next floor. And yes, this was it, this was what one-night stands were supposed to be like, Zexion's lust-blurred mind told him as he pressed Demyx into the wall, fumbling fingers and quick breaths and the delicious delirium of urgency. Still, he retained enough sense to back off slightly as Demyx fumbled the key for the sixth time.

Jackets and shoes were thrown off at the door, shirts whilst on top of the kitchen table. Pants were shimmied out of down the hall and against the wall.

"Do you mind if I'm on top again?" Zexion asked Demyx's neck. The blond shivered wonderfully as hot air brushed saliva-slicked skin.

"No," Demyx replied, his tone remarkably even, "I like having you inside of me."

Zexion froze and blushed brilliantly.

Demyx laughed, "What? People don't say shit like that to you often?"

"You could say that."

"What, don't get out much?"

Zexion shrugged, "I _really _dislike people for the most part."

Demyx's breathing quickened as Zexion's hand slid between them, "But you-ahh-like me, right?"

"Sorta."

"Sorta?"

"I _shouldn't_ like you, I mean, you're a lot of things I dislike. You're talkatvie and clingy and your hair's ridiculous, but, yeah, I like you anyway."

Demyx ran a hand through his hair self-consciously, "Thanks, I think."

* * *

_**Chapter Two: **"This Game Between the Sheets"

* * *

_"Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but I'm sort of in love with you right now," Zexion muttered into Demyx's sweaty collarbone.

Demyx's hand paused a fraction of a second in its mindless stroking of Zexion's spine. "You're sweet."

"I don't think anyone's told me that since I was, like, six."

"Your mother?"

"Neighbor, she found out the truth when I told her her son was a spoiled little asshole."

"When you were six?"

"I had a magical childhood."

"I'm just not gonna follow that one, mm'kay?"

* * *

_**Chapter Two: **"This Game Between the Sheets"

* * *

_It was near dawn when Zexion woke. He lay on his stomach with the comforting weight of Demyx's arm across the small of his back. The thought surprised him, Demyx's arm, _comforting_. He knew full well he hated sleeping alone, but he hated dealing with people _more_, but Demyx-

Zexion scrambled out of bed before that thought could finish itself. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in earnest at all, but accidents happen.

He quickly located his pants in the silvery heap just outside the door. He was about to pull them on when he stopped and thought, he _really_ wanted a shower. _Could_ he shower here or was that weird?

It occurred to him that there was a lot he didn't know. He quickly wiped that thought away, too. He tiptoed back through the bedroom to the bathroom and shut the door behind him before fumbling for the light switch.

Was it weird to use Demyx's body wash? Zexion decided he didn't care as he soaped himself and rinsed. He needed to get the smell of Demyx off his skin. It was driving him crazy. It made him want to touch Demyx, but Demyx wasn't there to be touched. And while he could, theoretically, crawl, wet and dripping, back into bed with the blond he had a problem with the notion.

He _didn't_ have a problem with the notion of the blond coming to join him in the shower. That was _just fine_. He fantasized about it hazily until the water turned cold against his back.

He had a problem with the towels, too, and ended up simply staying in the shower till the majority of the water was off his skin.

After spending ten minutes relacing his evidently very complicated pants, Zexion fumbled his way by cell phone-light to the kitchen where he poked around, looking for his shirt. He eventually found it on the seat of one of the basic wooden chairs grouped around the table.

Then he looked at it.

It was shimmery and made wholly of some meshy material. It was also freezing.

Then he glanced at Demyx's shirt, on the ground by his foot.

It was long-sleeved blue cotton with some band logo or something on the front. It sure as hell _looked_ warm.

Zexion had never considered himself to be a particularly moral-person, but something about shirt stealing irked him. Not enough to put the shirt on the table and put on his own, but still irked him. Especially since he still had Demyx's _other_ shirt.

He paused on his way out the door, should he leave a note? Notes weren't required for one-night stands, but what about two-night stands? What about two-night-several-days-apart stands?

Zexion located a receipt from his wallet and a magic marker on the kitchen counter.

_I've stolen your shirt, but left you mine as collateral. I'm sure you'll wear it often; it's such a practical shirt after all._

He considered thanking him for the shower, unknowing as it might have been, but that thought lead to thanking him for the sex, and that was just weird, so he left it at that and didn't bother signing it.

In the elevator, Zexion encountered Mrs. Potts again.

"Ah, hello, dearie. Leaving so soon?"

"Well, yeah, I've got-"

"After all, now is the hour for drug dealers and prostitutes."

"I-sorry?"

"Drug dealers," she held a hand to her own ample bosom, "and prostitutes," she indicated Zexion in his lace-up pants and stolen shirt.

"I'm not a-you're a-?"

She chuckled merrily, "Well, of course, dearie, where did you think Demyx got all of his sleeping pills from?"

"Demyx takes sleeping pills?"

"Ahh, yes. Nothing but sleeping pills since-"

Zexion's fumbling brain staggered back to what was important, "I'm not a prostitute!" He was really getting sick of people insinuating that he was.

She stiffened and smiled, "Of course not, dearie. Now, if you'll excuse me, this is my stop."

* * *

_**Chapter Two: **"This Game Between the Sheets"

* * *

_"Hey there, little boy blue," Xaldin greeted Zexion upon his entrance to Insert Catchy Name Here (Second Circle) about a half an hour before it would open to the public.

Vexen popped out of the back and leaned casually against Xaldin's side, "So tell us, how was your night with the cute blond."

It was time for a subject change, "Have you guys ever thought that it's kind of gay that the only workers at a sex bar are male?"

Vexen abruptly stopped leaning on Xaldin.

"Say what you will about these queers, dude, but I do _not _suck the cock. Most non-triumphant, yo," Xigbar interjected as he emerged from the back with a box of bottles.

"Not all gay men give head, you know this, yes?" Xaldin points out.

"Unfortunately."

That was Vexen, Zexion would ask for more information, hearing the bitterness of recent experience in the blond's voice, but frankly he didn't want to know and-

"Recent experience?"

And Xigbar would ask for him whether he wanted to know or not.

"I was with this cute redhead and-"

"I'll be in the back!" Zexion all but shouted a he made his way behind the bar where everyone else already was, and continued through to the back room.

Xigbar snorted as he sorted the bottles, replacing the mostly empty or empty ones that hadn't been switched previously for whatever reason, "Yeah, gotta go change into today's little outfit."

"Assless chaps and a man thong today. He left the shirt up to you," Vexen added helpfully.

Zexion stopped in his tracks, "No. I'm not wearing that, I am _not_ a gay cowboy goddamn it!"

Xigbar shrugged, "Take it up with the boss man, yo."

Zexion refused to groan out loud, it was a sign of weakness and he would not allow it. He would not, he would not. _Assless chaps_. Okay, maybe he would.

* * *

**Chapter Two: **_"This Game Between the Sheets."_

Zexion knocked uncertainly on the door in front of him. The uncertainty might be because he had no idea of the welcome he would merit but probably had more to do with the fact that he wasn't overly sure where he was. This could be the third wrong door in a row.

The door was opened by a, thankfully, pants-wearing redhead. Happy as he was that the door opener was wearing pants (and a shirt, too) unlike the last one, this was still the third wrong door.

"Sorry, wro-"

"Demyx! Some weird guys at your door!"

Oh, it was the right door.

"Is it a Jenova's Witness?" called back a very familiar voice.

The redhead frowned, "Are you a Jenova's Witness?"

Zexion was bewildered, "Didn't those face tattoos hurt?"

There were dark purple diamond tattoos under each of the man's eyes. "Like a bitch, are you a Jenova's Witness or not?"

"Not."

"Well? Is he or isn't he?" that familiar voice yelled, getting louder.

Demyx appeared in the doorway, "Oh, hey, Zexion. Let him in, Ax."

The redhead- Axe, who named a child Axe?- stepped aside to let Zexion in. Zexion was having none of it. Instead, he leaned in close and whispered in a conspiratory tone, "He has tattoos on his _face_."

Demyx frowned lightly, "Yes, he does. Now are you coming in or not?"

Zexion giggled and held up a hand to muffle it, "You said coming! Teehee!" But he came in anyway.

Demyx rolled his eyes, "Oh, lord, what the hell did you take?"

Zexion shook his head stubbornly, "Shouldn't do drugs, they're bad for you."

"Axe" snorted.

Demyx pulled Zexion inside and shut the door behind him.

"I-I had headache. So I took some pills Xigbar gave me, now my head doesn't hurt. Did you know you can't see sound?"

Demyx nodded, "Yes, yes, I did know that."

Zexion nodded, "Oh." And then he crumpled to the floor in an ungainly heap.

Demyx groaned, "Oh, shit, that's the last thing I need." He bent and pulled up Zexion's hands, "Get his feet, would you?"

Axel complied, "So, uh, who the hell is this guy?"

"He's my-my... He's a friend." Demyx decided finally as he lead the way to the couch.

"A 'special' friend, or just a friend?"

"I dunno, somewhere in between, it's not important right now."

"What's his name, Zexion? And people say _my_ name is stupid. He looks really familiar...." Axel commented, staring down at the prone figure on the couch.

"People don't say your name is stupid, they say you or your catchphrase is stupid," Demyx corrected mildly.

Axel shrugged, "What-the-fuck-ever."

Zexion sat up suddenly with a yelp. He looked around. "Demyx? Why am I at your apartment? And who's he?" This last was said with a territorial glare at Axel.

Demyx shrugged, "You're here because you just knocked on my door, something about pills from Xigdus and a headache. This is my friend Axel."

Zexion nodded, rubbing at his forehead, "Ooh, I am really, really sorry. I'm gonna go now," he said standing unsteadily.

Demyx shrugged, "No big deal, as long as it doesn't become habit. You may as well stay, since you're here."

Axel jolted suddenly, "You're that bartender at the sleazy sex bar down in the West End! The one everyone wants to bone 'cause you're hard to get or something."

The room suddenly went very, very silent, and then Demyx murmured, "Wasn't _that_ hard."

Axel, noticing the death glare he was getting from Zexion, realized he had a pressing appointment elsewhere, "Well, I should be leaving, so I'll leave, and you guys can do... whatever," he leered.

"You don't have to go," said Demyx.

"Nah, Roxas gets off work soon and he'll pine if I'm not there to walk him home," he drawled heading towards the door.

"He won't care!" Demyx called in the tone of a much repeated joke.

"Nonsense!" The door shut with a quiet click but Axel could be heard singing from the hallway, "What's this? Let's see! Ooh, I feel se-e-xy!"

Zexion buried his face in his hands as he collapsed back onto the couch, "I'm really, really sorry. I am going to _kill _Xigbar."

Demyx shrugged and flopped down next to him, "Really, it's not a big deal. Though I do understand why you want to kill whatsisface."

Zexion leaned over on Demyx's shoulder, "I'm really sorry."

Demyx frowned, "Stop saying that or I'll duct tape your mouth."

"Ooh, bondage, fun."

"If you want."

"Mmm?" Zexion looked up in time to make Demyx miss and kiss his chin instead.

Zexion laughed, "Let's try that again, shall we?"

And Demyx smiled a bashful little smile before climbing onto Zexion's lap in a way that was not bashful in the least, hand's going to the fastener of Zexion's pants. He froze, the zipper halfway down, "What did you want to be when you grew up?"

Zexion gasped, "What?"

"I mean, did you always wanna be a lawyer, or-" he shrugged, apologetic, "I was just curious."

Zexion considered briefly, "Not sure really. Not a bartender in a, and I quote, 'sleazy sex bar down in the West End' of Beast's Castle."

"Did you want to be a posh little wannabe aristocrat in the East End?" Demyx teased.

"No, but a cute little... whatever, in Central would have been nice."

Demyx knew the nut was soon to crack, "C'mon, what did you wanna be? I promise not to laugh."

Zexion squirmed, "A veterinarian."

Demyx smiled, "So what happened, why'd you go lawyer?

Zexion shrugged, "Well, animals don't like me much, for one."

Demyx grinned apologetically and shrugged before leering, "We can play doctor if you want."

"Into role-playing?"

"Yup, I used to play D&D and not get laid, now I have kinky role-play sex. It's the circle of life."

"Detective-suspect?" Zexion asked with a quirk of his eyebrow and knowing smile.

Demyx grinned back, "My favorite. So, who-why am I hearing the Darth Vader theme?"

Zexion frowned, "My cell phone, that's Xemnas, one sec. Hello, this is Zexion-"

"-master in the art of all things kinky and or dirty, how may I help you?"

"Dem, give that back!" Demyx batted his hands away.

"Yes, I'm sure this is Zexion."

"Demyx!"

"Well, I'm sorry _you're_ not sure, but-"

"Seriously, I need that!"

"Sorry, I can't do that, Mr. Omniscient-God-Boss, sir, but I have plans with my lover and fellow Sex-Master."

Zexion stopped, _lover_?

"Yes, I understand, thank you, sir, goodbye, sir." Demyx clicked the phone off. "You don't have to work today, am I amazing or what?"

Zexion sighed, wary, "What do I owe him?"

"Your firstborn."

"Lover?"

Demyx shrugged dismissively, "Well, it sounds better than Occasional Screw-Toy."

"Ahh."

"Why, did you wan-"

"No! No. You?"

"No, 'course not."

"Right then."

"Hot sex now?"

* * *

_**Chapter Two: **"This Game Between the Sheets"

* * *

_"Has anyone ever told you you're really cuddly after sex? You were even that first night."

Zexion felt his face heat up as he rolled away, "Sorry."

Demyx grabbed the slate-haired man's wrist and tugged him back over, "Don't apologize, it's cute."

Zexion didn't bother struggling. "Cute and sweet, your adjectives get worse and worse."

"Shut up and cuddle with me," Demyx commanded, pressing Zexion tighter.

Zexion shifted, "If you keep holding me like that we're going to wind up doing something very different from cuddling."

"Your threats are unintimidating."

* * *

_**Chapter Two: **"This Game Between the Sheets"

* * *

_The next time he saw Demyx, he was shaking a martini for some clown who had to include the phrase, "Shaken, not stirred" in his order. If Zexion had a dollar for every time that he'd heard that he could quit working. He was in the process of locating the olives from beneath the counter when a mellow tenor said, "If you think I'm stalking you, it's because I am."

Zexion glanced up, it was Demyx, obviously. Zexion quickly stifled a smirk and settled for a monotone, "Oh noes."

Demyx smiled softly, "Does that mean there's no chance of you taking me home?"

Zexion was neither surprised nor put out to find Demyx still there in the morning.

* * *

There, I _think_ that's **NOT the end**, I lied. I **cut out a lot** because I really **wanted** to just **post** the damn thing already. Whatev. I hope anyone who actually reads this enjoys it. Next chapter could take a while....

Th **divider** turned into the **chapter title** (from **Depeche Mode's Master and Servant**) because I'm **out of rules** other than "The human whose name is written in this peanut bowl shall die." which didn't seem entirely appropriate. **Chapter One's title** is from **Paralyzer** by **Finger Eleven**.

_Please review_.


	3. Let Your Body Decide

**OH MY GOD, I FINISHED IT**!! Despite the fact that it's a mere three chapters, this thing took an awful long time.

I'd like to thank my beta **LawlietxRinoa** for editing (most of) this, and **blondevil** for giving me the idea when I didn't want to write an essay, and **everyone who reviewed.** Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."

* * *

_One day, just after the end of Zexion's sentence, Axel came to Insert Catchy Name Here (Andrew Ryan's). He approached the bar where Vexen was making Pink Squirrels for a bunch of barely legal college kids, intent on getting smashed and laid.

Axel leaned over the bar, ignoring a few of the college kids invitations, "Hey, I'm looking for a bartender," he began, none-too-intelligently.

Vexen smiled, "And you found one."

The redhead repressed a shudder, "A specific one. Grayish-purple hair, longish, most of it in his face. Pretty short, er," Axel struggled to remember more of what Zexion looked like; they had only met the once after all.

Vexen stopped leaning in, and smiling, "Oh, you mean Zexion? He's got the late shift today."

Axel looked put-out, "Do you know when I could find him, possibly?"

Vexen pouted slightly, "I don't see what everyone sees him, first that blond always asking after him, now you."

"Blond?" Axel queried, interest piqued.

"Average height, mohawk-ish hair, pretty hot. Nice ass."

Axel repressed another shudder at the thought of the creepy blond checking out his poor Demyx's ass. The news that Demyx frequently came around the bar was also disconcerting, it was, in fact, what he come here to discuss with the bartender, the _other_ bartender.

"Anyway," said Vexen, wiping out a glass and placing it on the To Be Washed tray, "Zexion should be here in an hour so, if you feel like sticking around. I'm sure you could find _some_ way to pass the time," the blond leered.

"Right," said Axel, pulling away from the bar, "I'll be back in a bit then."

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."

* * *

_True to his word, the redhead was back in an hour and ten minutes, and this time he found Zexion easily, as the man was standing bored at the bar, waiting for someone to order something. Sadly, business was slow and no one seemed ready for more just yet.

"Hey," Axel greeted.

Zexion looked surprised, then understanding. Vexen had warned him that an odd, but attractive, redhead had been looking for him, but Zexion had had no idea who that could be.

"Hey. You're Demyx's friend, right?" He did remember that.

"Yeah. The name's Axel, got it memorized? He's the reason I'm here actually. I'm worried about him."

"And why is that?" Zexion leaned into the corner of the bar and settled into "therapist" mode while simultaneously trying not to wince at what sure as hell _sounded_ like a very annoying catchphrase.

"He's... happy."

"You're worried because he's happy?"

"With you. He's happy with you, and I'm worried you'll leave him and he'll be miserable again. When his wife left him, he-You're the longest relationship he's been in since her, if-"

Zexion ignored the fact that hearing the news that Demyx had had a wife was rather like having an anvil dropped on his head. "Explain to me how this is any of your business."

Axel grinned, "Just doing the protective best friend thing."

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."_

**

* * *

**Some days, when Demyx showed up at Rapture they went home together. Some days, they simply arranged a place and time to meet for the following day, or the day after that, or the day after that… Yesterday had been one of the latter.

So now here Zexion was, standing nervously in front of Demyx's door. He was a few minutes early, he hoped that didn't matter. He knocked, the door opened almost immediately. Demyx stood there looking utterly frazzled and sort of pissed off.

"Er, sorry, I'm a bit early," Zexion explained quickly, hoping his non-punctuality wasn't the cause of Demyx's ire. There was a woman sitting at the kitchen table. Zexion wondered who she was.

A small child picked itself up off the floor and quickly attached itself to Zexion's leg. Zexion, for his part, gazed down at it with passive distaste and said, "Yes. You're adorable, please stop touching me." The child, about age three, Zexion approximated, beamed up at him at the compliment, happily ignoring the second clause.

Demyx bent and detached it's undoubtedly sticky hands from Zexion's jeans. "No grabbing strangers, we've talked about this."

Something in the way he spoke to it-was he the thing's father? Oh god. Did that mean that the woman was-Why was she staring at him like he was cockroach she needed to squish?

"This-this is him?" she seemed flabbergasted. She had a nice voice though; undoubtedly their child had a voice as lovely as its parents. Zexion's mind was floundering in a sea of "maybes."

"I mean, _this _is your-your," she glanced at the child, "B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D?"

Demyx opened his mouth, Zexion interrupted. Who the hell was she to refer to him as _this_ and give him that cockroach look? "Y-E-S and we regularly engage in hot S-E-X."

Demyx smirked cruelly.

She looked like Zexion had slapped her across the face.

"Zexion, this is Clarissa; Clarissa, Zexion."

"_Zex_ion?"

He was really sick of that, "Yes, my parents were sadistic. My sister's name is Literotica, my brother is Clitus."

Demyx, who knew full well that Zexion was an only child, snorted with laughter. Clarissa now looked like she'd been bitch-slapped.

"Clarissa was just leaving," Demyx explained with a pointed glance in her direction and a bite in his tone.

"No, I think I should stay and meet your new… friend."

"I dunno," Zexion said doubtfully, "I haven't gotten A-N-Y in a W-E-E-K," this, too, was a lie, "so I might not be able to resist the urge to J-U-M-P your…" Zexion glanced at Demyx.

"Ex-husband," he said with a sickening smirk.

"Ex-husband," repeated Zexion.

They smiled sweetly and exchanged lovesick looks.

Clarissa turned purple, "Would it kill you to be a little more responsible?" she snapped, standing up and heading to the door.

"Oh, we're very responsible. We always make sure to be safe," Demyx drawled, slamming the door behind her.

Zexion, leaning on the table, just looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "So."

Demyx said nothing, simply crossed over to Zexion and wrapped his arms loosely around his shoulder and rested his head against Zexion's neck, "That woman makes me so angry."

"I noticed. You weren't your usual jolly self."

"Jolly?"

"Jolly."

"You're so _sweet_!"

"Please die."

Demyx pulled his head up to smile at him, "Admit it, you'd miss me if I died."

Zexion refused to agree with this statement, however true it might be. He kissed him lightly instead.

Demyx groaned and dug his nails into Zexion's shoulder blades, "Can we please just go have really rough sex now?"

Zexion pretended to consider it for a second or two, "Alright."

Demyx's hands slid to cup Zexion's elbows; he nuzzled the hollow behind the blunet's ear and then kissed his neck, "Is it all right if I… take you this time?"

Zexion's initial response was to drawl, "Take me where?" He bit back the retort and thought about it.

It had been months since-Was he okay with letting-It was _Demyx_, it would okay. "Alright," he said again.

The grip on Zexion's elbows changed, became more possessive. The lip-on-lip contact changed, too; Demyx seemed to be just taking and taking without giving anything.

Zexion's stomach muscles clenched from anxiety, this was… different. Demyx's hands were on his hips, pushing them back so Zexion was seated, barely, on the table. He groaned as nails dragged down his back, and then a hand was at the zipper of his pants, dragging that down, too.

His pants were pooled messily on the ground, his shirt had been ripped open; buttons had gone flying, he remembered that, remembered the popping sound and the _ping _as they hit cabinets and floor.

A hand was on his chest, pushing his back against the cold wood surface of the table, and the other hand was between his legs-"Oh, shit," Zexion breathed.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."_

**

* * *

**Zexion lay curled up on his side, back to Demyx. His breathing was even by now, but he was still feeling embarrassed for having to be _carried_ into the bedroom. Damn Demyx.

"Zex?" There was a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Did I hurt you?"

"A little," Zexion responded quietly, wondering when was the last time someone had called him "Zex." Of course he hurt. His shoulder blades hurt from being pounded into the table, his hands hurt from gripping the edge until his knuckles were white, the base of his spine hurt from-

"I'm going to take a shower," he murmured, standing and walking to the bathroom without limping, however much that cost him. Once inside he turned on the water and leaned against the wall, waiting for the water to heat.

There was a quiet knock on the door, "Zexion?"

Zexion straightened up and opened the door, wishing he was a little less naked.

"I brought you a towel and some clean clothes, in case you want-"

"Thank you." He couldn't meet his eyes, why couldn't he meet his eyes?

He shut the door quietly, deposited the cloth pile on counter by the sink and stepped into the now steaming water.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."

* * *

_A washed and dressed Zexion found Demyx disinfecting the kitchen table, which, Zexion had to admit, made an awful lot of sense after-

Demyx glanced up at him but did not speak.

"We need to talk."

"I'm sorry. I was just so angry-"

"This isn't about that. This is about you having a kid."

Demyx scratched the back of his neck, "I meant to tell you. Sort of. This wasn't supposed to be like this, it wasn't supposed to get so-"

"Complicated."

"Yeah." Demyx took a seat at the table, "Do you want the whole story?"

Zexion sat down opposite him, wishing he had a drink just for something to do. "Yes. No. I don't know," Zexion wasn't used to not knowing things, it irked him.

"I met her in high school. She was-" Demyx sighed, "Anyway, we got married right after graduation. Everyone said we were crazy, and that it would never last, but we were convinced we'd be together forever. Alex was born in the summer between our second and first years of college.

"Around then I started to really wonder about things I'd only sort of wondered about, and well-Anyway, Clare left me and took Alex with her."

"Do you miss her?"

"I did in the beginning. I sort of, well, it was a good part of the reason I dropped out of college. She sort of, froze up though, she didn't used to be such a… a bitch. I suppose that's my fault."

"What kind of things were you wondering about?" asked Zexion, correctly figuring that was the heart of matter.

"Oh, you know, little things," Demyx hedged. "Like how I used to like watching Axel change in gym class, andthenwegotreallydrunkandhadsexonenight, but you don't need to hear about that."

Zexion felt like punching something, "I'd say that's a fair assessment."

"So, any embarrassing secrets you'd like to share?" Demyx asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I once dated a guy with pink hair; he was five years older than I was."

Demyx bit at nail with lazy disinterest, "How old were you?"

"Fourteen."

Demyx's eyes bugged.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."_

**

* * *

**Zexion awoke sprawled on top of Demyx and was rather surprised to find himself fully clothed. That was a first. He pushed himself up onto his forearms and blinked down at Demyx. Demyx blinked back.

"Morning," he said thickly.

"What time is it?" Zexion asked.

Demyx twisted to stare at the clock, "Almost ten. What time do you have to be at work?"

"Six," Zexion lowered himself and snuggled close.

"So, what do you wanna do today?"

"Will you hurt me if I say 'try to take over the world'?"

"No."

"Try to-"

"I just won't have sex with you for a week."

"A fate worse than death," Zexion said somberly.

"Alright, if you have no idea than you must choose between two of my favorite activities: sleeping and sex."

Zexion thought it over, "How about both?"

The blond frowned, "At the same time?"

"I was really thinking more alternating, but I'm always willing to experiment."

"Let's just go for alternation," Demyx replied, rolling them over and sliding beneath the covers.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."_

* * *

Neither of them noticed when, several hours later, the door opened. "Demyx, you better not still be asleep. What the f-"

It was Clarissa.

Demyx abruptly stopped treating Zexion's neck like a blowpop and looked up, startled, "I… I thought you coming at one-thirty."

"It _is _one-thirty.

"…oh."

"Whatever. I'm taking Alex and leaving." She slammed the bedroom door behind her.

Demyx settled down on top of Zexion with a noise of discomfort.

Zexion repressed a groan of frustration, "Go after her."

"What?" Demyx looked utterly shocked.

"Go after her," Zexion repeated. "You want to spend some time with your kid, it's reasonable. Go."

Demyx got up and hurriedly tugged on a pair of pants. He stopped at the door, "What are you gonna-"

"I will shower. After that, we shall see."

Demyx nodded, "You're the best."

Fifteen minutes later Zexion emerged from the bathroom dry and wrapped in a towel. Digging through Demyx's dresser drawers he could hear the merry jingle of a children's television program. Dressed in borrowed clothes, he came out to find Demyx and Clarissa sitting on the couch talking quietly. Alex lay on its belly on the floor, kicking its tiny feet in the air lazily.

_They look… good… together_, Zexion admitted to himself, stomach twisting.

He coughed. "I borrowed some clothes, sorry. I couldn't find mi-oh, there they are." They were right where he'd left them by the kitchen table. Hopefully Clarissa hadn't noticed. Judging by the look she was giving him, she had, and Alex had, too. It had probably asked why.

Demyx, for his part, grinned broadly upon seeing Zexion. He hopped neatly over the back of the couch, "No, no, it's fine, think nothing of it," he babble coming over and talking in a rush. "Just give us a sec, would you, Clare?" He pulled Zexion behind the plaster partition, out of sight. "Please, dear god, Zexion do not leave me alone with that woman." He fisted his hands in the blunet's shirt.

Zexion, who had been planning on making as quick a getaway as possibly after seeing them together on the couch, reconsidered.

"Please," Demyx nuzzled the side of Zexion's neck, "Please stay with me, Zexion."

And how could Zexion say no to that?

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."_

**

* * *

**More days passed with a relative lull and the same basic routine.

"I feel like I should take you out on a date, or something." Zexion murmured as they stretched out side-by-side in the blonde's bed.

Demyx grinned and gave his head a little shake, "No need. I'm cheap, easy, and low maintenance. "

"You're not, but I feel like I should."

Demyx's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "You're in love with me, aren't you?" he joked.

Zexion thought it over for a long moment with an exponentially increasing awkward factor.

"It's not impossible."

Demyx swore and sat up, face in his hands, back to Zexion.

Zexion wished he had something that could turn back time the littlest bit. But he didn't. So he started to look for his pants in the heap of clothes on the floor by the bed.

Demyx looked at him over one shoulder, "What are you doing?"

"Dressing." _With the intention of leaving, unless you ask me to stay. Please ask me to stay. _

Demyx sighed heavily, "That's probably for the best."

"Yeah," Zexion replied tonelessly.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."

* * *

_In the days that passed before Zexion saw Demyx again, Zexion did many things that were out of character for him.

He flirted with customers, _all_ the customers. Anyone who looked at him twice got a smile and a salacious comment. A few he slept with, always at their place, and he was always gone by morning. More he hooked up with, quick and dirty, in the back alley behind the bar.

That _thing _with Demyx had been an anomaly and he would prove it. Zexion Karenin did not get attached, Demyx had simply been... convenient.

If any of the people who knew him -professors, coworkers, classmates- noticed anything odd in his attitude, more aggression and anger, they chose not comment.

Midway through the week, Axel came by again. This time, Zexion was working the first time the redhead entered the bar. He sat down on a stool near where the blunet was mixing drinks.

"Hey," he said shortly.

"Hello," Zexion replied flatly.

"What did you do to Demyx?" the redhead asked, immediately accusatory.

"I didn't do a thing to him," Zexion thunked a glass onto the counter.

"He's been moping for days, you must have done something."

"Well, I didn't. Okay?"

"You must have-"

"I didn't do a goddamn thing to him!"

It was the first time Zexion had lost his temper since he'd thrown things at Demyx. The first time publicly in years.

The bar went quiet.

Lexaeus loomed out of nowhere, "This guy bothering you?"

Zexion smiled maliciously, "Yes. Yes, he is."

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Axel left without complaint.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."_

**

* * *

**"Zexion, if I may speak to you in my office?" Zexion jumped a little; Xemnas could walk quite silently when he wished.

Zexion shrugged, "Whatever."

Once in Xemnas' office Zexion slouched comfortably in what he privately thought of as the interrogation chair, "Well?"

Xemnas took a seat and steepled his finger, legs crossed, "I would like to congratulate you, Zexion."

"On?" Zexion was apathetic to worry about things like the proper fear of his "omniscient god-boss" or be bothered by the way said god-boss said his name.

"Why, your recent attitude to the customers. In fact, Zexion, I'd like to offer you a raise." Xemnas smiled his creepy smile.

"I'm getting paid to let people suck me off in an alley, awesome. Can I go now?"

Xemnas stood up and came to stand in front of his desk, "There is one more thing. I've been reassessing my opinion of the bartenders' looks."

Zexion was starting to feel a little creeped out; Xemnas' orange eyes could do that. "As you pointed out, Saïx is no bartender."

Zexion didn't feel like pointing out that he doubted Saïx could read well enough to understand a drink mixing manual. "Let me guess? Vexen." Well, Xemnas did have strange taste.

"No, Zexion, I think…"

_Oh god, please don't say what I think you're about to say_.

"… that it might well be you. You have such womanly features."

Zexion choked. He might be a tad delicate in the face (and body, if he was being honest), but _womanly_?

And then Xemnas' hand was in his hair.

"Whoa, whoa!" Zexion was shocked out of this lethargy, he shoved off hard with his feet and tipped the chair over, effectively removing himself from Xemnas' grasp.

"I did so want you on your back," Xemnas murmured.

Zexion whimpered and scrambled to his feet. Xemnas darted forward, pinning Zexion against the wall, the larger man's hands on either side of the smaller's head.

"Just where is Saïx exactly?"

"Out getting coffee, he should gone for at least another," Xemnas checked his watch, "half-hour."

Zexion opened his mouth to say something, something _other_ than a ludicrous plea for Demyx to come barging in, guns blazing. Like _that_ was gonna happen.

The door did open. Though it was Xigbar, not Demyx.

"Hey, boss-man, I was just wondering if I could- oh, never mind I'll come back later."

"Yes, that would be- oof!!" Zexion had resorted to ramming his knee up between his boss' legs. Girly, but effective. He ducked the blocking arm and ran through the back room to the bar, which he paced behind. Should he quit? Could he find another job? If he couldn't find another job, what would he do? Where would he stay? He couldn't _believe_ Xemnas had just come on to him, _Xemnas,_ of all people.

"Gotta say, Zexy-boy, I know you've been spreading 'em for anything with a co-actually, just spreading 'em for anything, but sleeping with the boss-man, that's pretty darn-"

"Shut up," Zexion hissed.

"Don't tell me what do, skank-boy. I liked you better celibate, first the little blond boy-"

"Shut up!"

"I mean, admittedly, he's got a great ass, but-"

"I said shut up!" Zexion's fist hurt and Xigbar was back against the bar, face red. He cracked his neck, looking furious.

"You know, even celibate, I didn't like you that much," Xigbar said before punching him back. It probably would have gone farther than that had Lexaeus not intervened, holding both enraged fighters away from each other.

Zexion shrugged off Lexaeus' huge, restraining hand, "You know what, I just can't take this place anymore, I quit." He turned, raised the partition and left the bar. It had been as easy as that. All along, it had been as easy as that.

Vexen caught up to him on the sidewalk as he walked to the subway station. It was raining.

"Hey!"

Zexion turned. "What's up?"

"You-you're really quitting?"

"Xemnas hit on me."

"Ew."

"Pretty much."

"If that blond comes by-"

"He won't."

"What happened? You guys get into a fight?"

"No. Listen, I'll call you when I get my shit straightened out, okay?" Vexen was his friend, sort of, he deserved that much.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."_

**

* * *

**Zexion was doomed to embarrassing jobs with a varying degree of sexuality in their nature.

He was now Zexion Karenin, nude model.

It had taken a week or so, but then he'd seen a flyer in a shop window advertising that the local art school had needed a new model for their late classes, the old one had a broken leg. And at fifteen dollars an hour, six hours a day, five days a week, Zexion really couldn't complain.

Between that and the graveyard shift at a classier bar of a non-sexual nature he should be okay. Oh, how they'd laughed at his résumé, Insert Catchy Name Here (Make Up Your Own, Damn It), really? Seriously?

Yes, he'd worked there. Yes, the rumors were true, it _was_ a sex bar.

Zexion was currently standing in the center of a small stage in the center of a circle of drawing horses with eager young art students straddling them. His eyes were shut, he always shut his eyes. He couldn't _not _look around and eye contact was awkward for everyone involved. He kept his eyes shut even when the door opened, breaking the precious silence.

He _did_ open his eyes at the art teacher's protest that someone, Zexion guessed the door-opener, _really shouldn't be here_.

He thought he was hallucinating.

Demyx ignored the angry stares tossed his way. He walked straight up to the stage,

stepped onto it, marched up to Zexion and kissed him. It was a rather desperate sort of kiss, forceful, but not like that time on the kitchen table. Demyx's hands were on the small of the model's back, pulling him up and over until he pressed close to Demyx's body. And before Zexion could think his arms were around the blond and his tongue in his mouth and god this felt _so good_. He'd missed this. He'd missed Demyx.

"Can you leave now?"

"I think so, let me just talk to Leon."

He dropped down off the stage and walked up to the teacher, "Can I leave early today? It's only an hour and Cloud can cover for me," he glanced to where the blond was reading in the corner.

Leon's gaze followed his; it was well known the man fancied the cute blond model.

Leon sighed and ran a hand through his chestnut hair, "Alright. Just don't make a habit of it."

Zexion grinned and went to get his clothes.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."_

**

* * *

**"So, where do you want to go? The city is ours!" Demyx spread his arms wide to indicate the city around them.

Zexion, exhilarated and light-hearted, was finding it hard to think about anything other than how very good Demyx looked in those jeans. "Wherever you want." _Especially my bedroom. Mostly my bedroom._

"Whenever, wherever, we're meant to be together! I'll be there and you'll be near, and that's the deal, my dear!" Demyx sang out, earning some odd looks from passers-by.

Zexion just stared at him.

"We could get some ridiculously expensive dinner, or catch a movie, or, I dunno, anything, except, of course, going back to either of our places and screwing like rabbits. That we can't do."

"And why is that?"

"This whole thing was caused by you wanting wanting to take me on an actual date, so now, we are going to go on an actual date."

Zexion sighed and fluffed his hair, "Whatever. Let's go find a move theater."

Demyx grinned, "Good boy." He took his hand and skipped off. Not literally.

"Sooo, you're a nude model now?"

"It certainly seems like it, I also got another bartending job. Seemed like a waste to not use all that training."

"Where?"

"Electric Six." Zexion tried to scuff his feet with shame.

"The gay bar?" **(1)**

"The one and only."

"You're doomed to embarrassing jobs, aren't you?"

"I've often thought so."

"Which do you prefer, the sex bar or the gay bar?"

"Gay bar," said Zexion after a moment's thought. "The drunks who hit on my tend to be more attractive."

"I hope you're not taking any of them home."

"Why would I?"

"Damn straight."

"When we could go to their place?"

Demyx glared.

Zexion held his hands up in the air as an expression of innocence, "Joking."

"Better be."

"Please, you're much more attractive than any, well, most of them, and I actually like you. That's an impressive feat."

"I'm flattered, wanna catch a movie?"

"Alright."

They went to the cinema, the movie they chose, the only one playing, turned out to be rather sucktacular. It was boring and pretentious and the actors were unattractive and bad at their jobs, their characters unappealing.

Halfway through, their eyes met. As one, Zexion and Demyx gathered their trash and left the theater.

And then they were kissing against the apartment door as the lock is fumbled at. Only this time it was Zexion against the door and Zexion's lock being fumbled. And moments later, when the door had finally been opened and they'd stumbled to the bedroom, it was Zexion who landed on his back on the neatly made bed.

Demyx cupped his partner's face lightly, "I want you, Zexion."

"Then take me," he said without hesitation.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."_

**

* * *

**"Did you mean it when you said you loved me?"

Zexion hesitated, "I didn't say I loved you. I said it wasn't impossible for me to do so."

"Well?" Demyx demanded with an imperious eyebrow, "Do you?"

Zexion spoke so slowly, choosing his words carefully, "Sometimes I think I do. Sometimes I think I just wish I did."

Demyx frowned and opened his mouth.

"Most of the time I figure the difference doesn't really matter."

"Well," said Demyx rolling over on top of him, "you can take your time figuring it out. You've got plenty of it, time that is."

Zexion ran his fingers lazily through Demyx's hair, "You'll be sticking around for a while then?"

Demyx tilted his head and stared at the ceiling, thinking. "Yeah, I think I will," he said with a smile.

* * *

**Chapter Three: **_"Let your body decide."

* * *

_**(1) **Electric Six is the band that does the song "Gay Bar," hence, I thought it was appropriate. As you've probably noticed, I suck at titling things.

* * *

Well, it's over. A **quick playlist**, because I always end up making and sharing them, **Celebrate You-Veruca Salt, , Rough Sex-Lords of Acid, Such Great Heighs-The Postal Service**, and then the story and chapter title songs. Speaking of, the title of this chapter comes from **Dhoom Dhoom by Tata Young**.


End file.
